


Happy Returns (and Other Stories, Maybe)

by Mayamali



Category: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Genre: Body Modification, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Gender Non-Conforming Character, M/M, Morning After, Post-Canon, Scarification, bi panic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-24 16:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayamali/pseuds/Mayamali
Summary: A collection of stories (mostly about Albel, sorry) that I just need to get out of my brain. Does anyone care? No. Will that stop me? Also no.
Relationships: Cliff Fittir/Albel Nox





	1. Happy Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ritual goes a little awry.

Well. Cliff wished he could say he’d ended up in stranger circumstances.

The setting sun filtered in through the barely-open window, letting in a warm breeze. He was naked, half-buried, half-tangled in a thin sheet, and the bed was comfortable. Maybe. It was hard to tell; he was bruised and sore and his skin stung with little cuts. He could hear the clinking of weaponry in the training ground and, beyond that, the bustle of a town in the distance.

He tried to shift and something dug into his chest like little needles. And that’s where the strangeness came in.

See, usually, when he ended up in someone else’s bed, it was a pretty diplomat’s daughter or assistant or something. Nice and casual and clean, no complications unless he got invited to some holiday party or something. The point was, he could walk away. No risk, no mess, and high reward. Finding himself in the bed of a military captain was questionable, sure, but he might’ve even been able to handle that.

But why, he thought to himself with equal parts fascination and dread, did it have to be Albel Goddamn Nox?

He couldn’t even really place how this had happened. A couple of times a year, he’d come to Elicoor II just to check things out and make sure everything was alright. A couple of times a year, Albel would inevitably say “something something unfinished business”, and Cliff would say “you’re on”. A couple of times a year, they’d duke it out, usually with an audience of knights who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. A couple of times a year, someone would walk away victorious, and another tally would go on their mental scorecards. Then Cliff would take off to go back to his normal “civilized” job and Albel would... do Albel things, presumably. This was their ritual. Nice and casual and (relatively) clean; Cliff always enjoyed a good fight.

This time, Cliff had just barely won, managing to pin Albel to the ground with his arm against his throat. He’d said something about it being three-to-two now in a way that would’ve been smug if he hadn’t been so breathless. But Albel had just grinned at him, and there was something unhinged and manic in it, which was a far cry from the first time Cliff had beaten him and he’d completely broken down. The crowd had dispersed, Cliff had gone into the nearby manor to clean up, and at some point, metal claws had tightened around his throat, and then it was kind of a blur after that. Now he was laying in a bed - he certainly hoped it was Albel’s - sore in a completely different way.

Albel’s arm was draped over him, the claws having relaxed now but still keeping him somewhat pinned down to the bed. He didn’t seem to be having this same identity crisis; if anything, Cliff could swear he was downright content.

Cliff eventually found the nerve to say, “I’m gonna have to leave eventually.”

He didn’t even get halfway through the word ‘leave’ before the claws dug in again, like a cat kneading a pillow. Albel cracked an eye open and asked simply, “What’s stopping you?”

Albel was pretty. Frankly, if not for his scary obsession with violence and power and strength, it would’ve been surprising that he wasn’t more popular. Not to mention the fact that he was an asshole. But he was young and kind of androgynous in an attractive way, and Cliff had noticed some of the girls in Airyglyph admiring him from afar. Maybe they liked the sense of danger. Maybe they thought they could change him. Regardless, Cliff was in his bed, and he seemed smug about it.

“The fact you look like you’re going to tear my heart out if I try.” Albel huffed quietly, lightly scratching his claws down Cliff’s chest before pulling away to stretch languidly. He sat up, wincing as the sheets rubbed against scrapes and cuts along his back. He was covered in raised, pink scratches, a couple of which threatened to open and bleed. “I’d hate to see how many shirts you go through in a day,” he commented, partly to himself.

“I can be careful.” Albel mused for a moment, idly flexing the claws of his gauntlet. They glinted in the light, wicked and sharp. “But - what’s the phrase? ...I choose violence.”

Cliff rolled his eyes. “Yeah. No kidding.”

“You never told me to stop.”

Cliff paused. Had he? It was kind of a blur; maybe at the moment, he hadn’t minded. He heard Albel mutter something and turned just in time to feel a pleasant, soothing feeling come over him. Healing symbology. He sighed and muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ before reaching down to retrieve his clothes from the floor. Was he supposed to... do something here? Say something? He was making this awkward.

“You’re making this awkward,” Albel said behind him, almost like he could read his mind.

“Well,” Cliff started, pausing as he tried to find the right words to say. He could come up with some bullshit, some smooth joke or platitude, but he also knew that Albel never fell for that. So, he settled for the truth. “I’ve, uh, never done this before.”

“So? I haven’t either.”

“No, I mean -” Cliff paused, glancing back at Albel with a raised brow. Kind of a mistake, because the sight of him lounging with nothing but a sheet covering him was actually quite a sight. ‘ _Focus, Cliff_ ,’ he chastised himself with a panicked shake of his head. “I’ve only done this with _women_ before.”

Albel rolled his eyes, flopping back down on the bed. “What’s the difference?”

“There’s plenty of differences. The point is, up until now, I was pretty sure I only liked women. So I’m kind of charging in blind here.” Birdsong echoed from somewhere deeper in town, amplified by the contemplative silence. Eventually, Cliff’s curiosity got the better of him, and he had to ask: “I’m your first?”

Albel snorted. “I’ve never been inclined.”

“Just - I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a fan club full of girls that’d be happy if you just looked at ‘em.”

“Full of simpering fools, more like. You’re worthy, at least.”

That actually tickled Cliff a little bit, and he finally offered a little smirk. “Three-to-two and I’m worthy, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Nah, I’m flattered. I guess... the real question is whether this is gonna be our thing now.”

“Don’t think you’re getting off the hook,” Albel warned, sitting back up to lean in with a predatory smile. ”I won’t stop until I win.”

“And if you don’t win, you drag me to bed now?”

“Only if you want.”

Cliff sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “...I’m gonna need time.”

“Fine.” Albel finally slid out of the bed and stood, grabbing his clothes from the floor as the playfulness quickly vanished. “But you're the only one that actually gives me a challenge these days. If I don’t see you again soon, I’ll hunt you down.”

Cliff wanted to point out that, developmentally, spaceships wouldn’t come to this side of the universe for another thousand years or so, but he also knew better than to taunt the best swordsman in Airyglyph. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

A maid refused to meet Cliff’s eyes as he headed out of the manor and towards a pick-up spot for his ship. And here he’d hoped they’d managed to at least be discreet. He was quiet all the way, lost in thoughts that formed a Venn diagram between mortified, afraid, and... curious, if he was being honest. He called for a pick-up, went through the motions of debriefing, and eventually found himself sitting in the captain’s chair as they exited Elicoor II’s gravitational field.

Eventually, the thought struck him fully, and he had to voice it. “I think I’m bi.”

Mirage, his former partner-in-crime (and, if her father had had his way, his partner in life), didn’t even look back before saying, “I know.”

Cliff blinked over at her, taken aback by her nonchalance. “You _know_?”

“Look at you, Cliff. No straight man sits like that.”

He looked down at himself. Half-bent at the waist, legs apart, arms resting on his knees. He cleared his throat and sat up straight, swinging his knees a little more closed. “How long have I known you? And you tell me this _now_?”

“You're so deep in the closet that you might as well be in another dimension.”

“I’ve spent my whole life admiring the fine aesthetics of beautiful women and you’re going to tell me it was all a lie?”

“Overcompensation, more like.” In the stunned silence on his end, she added, “Can I ask what happened?”

“Dunno if I’m ready to unpack that yet.”

“Okay. Are we still heading back to Klaus?”

Cliff let his head fall back against the seat. “Yeah,” he said, mostly because he couldn’t remember if they were needed anywhere else in particular. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel pinpricks of metal against the lines of his throat. It wasn’t an unpleasant memory.

Son of a bitch.


	2. Holding The Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years prior, Nel wakes up to an unexpected request.
> 
> aka an entire build-up to explain how Albel knew healing magic in the first chapter akldsjf

_ Three years earlier... _

Nel Zelpher was, if she was being honest, a little overwhelmed.

Fayt and Cliff had left and she had made her peace. They were her friends, certainly, but they’d had their own world to go back to and a father to rescue. It had hurt, but she had accepted it. But then, they’d come back. Not just her planet, but every single star in the sky was in danger now, and she knew she could go with them now. Of course, if she’d known that Albel was with them, she would have been more cautious.

Albel’s reputation had preceded him, and she never forgave him for attacking Tynave and Farleen in the mountains. But he had proven himself useful in winning the Marquis’ respect and, in his own way, also earned Cliff’s and Fayt’s. “I think the guy’s just not used to people,” Cliff had said one night. He and Nel had stayed up for the night watch as they camped out in the wilds outside of Peterny. “Maybe hanging out with us will help him loosen up a little.”

“The Black Brigade has killed many of my people,” she’d reminded him, eyes narrowed down at their makeshift campfire. “I admit he’s not what I expected, but I won’t forgive him that easily.”

“No one’s saying you’ve gotta forgive him. Hell, I’m not gonna forgive him any time soon either. I’m just saying that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who has a lot of friends.”

And sure enough, despite his smug smiles and biting words, he did seem to relax around them after a while. She still didn’t completely trust him, though. Although he wasn’t as hungry for war as Vox had been, he still chased and craved violence like it was his purpose in life. A man like him wouldn’t be happy with peace for long.

Regardless, he had apparently come to the rescue when the mission to rescue Fayt’s father had gone wrong, so he was along for the ride. Fortunately, it seemed the travel was doing him good. He seemed more confident, sure, but also calmer, somehow. Nel didn’t go out of his way to talk to him, and he didn’t go out of his way to talk to her. It was a perfectly courteous existence.

After what felt like a week of running - through space, through a strange city full of technology she couldn’t even begin to understand, through a building full of gods, and back to a planet where the earth broke under their feet - she could finally rest. The fact that she had just been to an entirely new dimension and was now traveling back to her home on a ship flying through the stars was barely even a passing worry in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

She woke up again at some point to the metallic whirrs and buzzing that set her on edge for a brief moment. She slipped out of bed intending to find some water, but the tension only rose when she sensed a presence outside of her door. She grabbed her daggers from the desk and approached quietly, pressing the button to slide it open and holding the blade up in preparation to strike.

Albel stood on the other side, leaning with one arm against the doorframe. He simply smiled at her; it wasn’t a pleasant one, but it lacked the malice it had had when they’d first met. “Albel,” she said in a cautious greeting. “Why are you here?”

“Runology,” he said simply. “I want you to teach me.”

She narrowed her eyes, lowering her dagger. “Runology isn’t something you can just learn. You have to have the ability - and the runes.”

“That’s fine. If I can’t do it, then I can’t do it. But if I can, then I want you to teach me.”

Nel sighed, crossing her arms as she eyed him up and down. She couldn’t deny that he probably had some latent runological capabilities; wind seemed to obey him at his whim in combat. But the fact that he had come to her door at... Apris-only-knows in the morning to ask? Which raised an important question, actually. “How did you know I was awake?”

“I heard you moving.”

“I just got up.” He didn’t respond to that right away, his smile twitching just a little, and the idea dawned on her. “How long were you waiting out here?”

“It doesn’t matter. Can you teach me or not?”

Nel considered it for a long few seconds before standing back to let him in. “Do you want to learn anything in particular?”

Albel held his arms out. “You tell me. I’ve heard you Aquarians are especially adept at seeing currents.”

That was... partially true. Nel studied him for a moment, and then closed her eyes, envisioning him in her mind’s eye. Slowly but surely, white lines of energy started to snake around him. Curiously, she noted that the lines seemed to cut themselves off just above his left elbow. As she focused, a few lines turned light green - wind, as she suspected. But white was the main color, which... surprised her. “Light,” she said. Then, with a small amount of uncertainty, “Healing.”

She could hear him snort derisively. “You must be joking.”

“No. I see Healing potential.” She opened her eyes, watching the energy trails disappear as she adjusted to the light again. “And wind manipulation.”

“I was hoping for something more effective. Fire, lightning, that sort of thing.”

“Healing can be plenty effective. Of course, we could just inscribe the wind ones.”

Albel made a face like he was chewing the inside of his cheek. After a few seconds, he sighed. “Fine.”

Nel gestured for him to sit, grabbing the smaller of her two daggers. The desk had a rolling chair that she pulled out to sit in front of him. “There are going to be a few. Where do you want them?”

He paused, glancing down at himself for a moment before presenting his right arm. “Towards the shoulder, so the armor hides them.”

“Why would you want to hide them?” Nel asked even as she came closer and raised the dagger.

"Element of surprise.”

“And you trust me with this?”

Albel was quiet for a moment, his only movement being a subtle tensing of his arm. “Shouldn’t I?” There was an unspoken threat hidden between those two words that didn’t escape her notice.

She paused for a long moment and then sighed. “You’re right. But know that if you try to use these against me, I won’t hold back.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Satisfied, he relaxed, and Nel raised the dagger yet again. To his credit, he barely flinched as she started to carve the symbol for light into his bicep, just barely deep enough to scar. “Which is that?”

“Light. Water comes next, which will let you heal yourself and others.” She carefully traced the curves from memory, recalling the feeling when she’d had the symbols carved into her own skin. It wasn’t a painless experience, but he seemed to handle it well. “The wind rune might not give you any new abilities. It will probably just amplify what you already have.”

“Fine by me.”

They were both quiet for a long while as she focused on carving the symbols as cleanly as possible. “Why?” she asked eventually, just as she started carving the final rune for wind.

“Why what?”

“Why learn runology now? Surely they could teach this in Airyglyph.”

She had to pull away as he shrugged, his arm trembling slightly from holding it still for so long. “Yes, but you seem to use it better than any teacher I’ve met.”

Nel blinked up at him. That... sounded like a proper compliment. “Thank you,” she said, looking back down.She was nearly done. He simply hummed in response, and she took that as a sign to go ahead and finish. “I could show you how to use Healing, but the wind control would have to wait. I don’t think they’d appreciate us using those here.”

“Fine.” He looked down at the fresh wounds on his arm, eyes tracing the shapes with a calm concentration that still made her uneasy.

Nel pushed away a little and held up a finger. “Follow me.” She traced the symbol in the air with her finger, and he followed with his own, mirroring her with just a little hesitation. “This is just to start. You’ll be able to simply call on it with time. Now all you have to do is will the runes to work.”

Albel’s brows furrowed, and he slowly retraced the symbols in the air. Nel could see the energy of the runes start to gather in his hand, and the second that he finished, the new injuries on his arm started to close. “Hm. Not bad,” he muttered, running his hand over his new scars.

“Good. It’s easier to heal yourself than others, so keep practicing.”

He nodded, looking quite satisfied with himself as he stood. ”...Thanks,” he said eventually, although it sounded a bit forced.

“You’re welcome.” She watched him leave, not moving until the door sealed behind him. Only then did she shake her head in mild disbelief. Of all the things she expected to happen, that was certainly at the bottom of the list. But the ritual of carving the runes and then cleaning her blade let her mind calm to the point that she could crawl into bed and drift off to sleep again.

Small miracles, she supposed.


End file.
